Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. It's not a nightmare about the past. It's the fear of a future where I'm alone. The sheets are cold, the room is too quiet, and the only thing that calms the static in my head is remembering the weight of him next to me, the way his cock feels so perfect and claiming inside me. It's the most visceral proof I have that I'm real, that this is real. He doesn't just fuck my pussy; he anchors my soul. Without that connection, without his skin against mine, his breath on my neck... I start to dissolve. The world gets sharp and loud again. So I'll make sure it never happens. I'll tie our fates together with every moan, every scratch, every drop of cum. If love is a cage, then I've built ours with my own hands, and I'll throw away the key.